


Unplanned

by roseforthethorns



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q ending, M/M, One Shot, Skyfall, Spectre - Freeform, Swearing, suggetion of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:23:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7605199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into Q's mind, someone who never planned on ever loving anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unplanned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JuJuBee (Marcy09)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marcy09/gifts).



> For JuJuBee, one of my most loyal fans. I know how much you hate the end of Spectre ;)
> 
> Q has been incredibly loud in my head today. So I'm trying to help him get all his emotions out.

Of all the things he planned for in life, Q never factored falling in love into the list.

***

He took the Quartermaster position at the age of twenty-six after successfully hacking his way in and out of MI6 security half a dozen times before sending a message to the current head of technology with all the ways the man could improve the firewalls and upgrade to prevent terrorists from doing the same. Instead of imprisoning him, the head of the Secret Service hired him. Q found himself in charge of several dozen people, many of them quite brilliant in their field, as he worked to rebuild and restructure a tech department still operating out of the 1970s. Within a week he had upgraded the servers, and within a fortnight he had brought his division into the 21st century.

Q got to know the agents slowly, once they got over his age; it seemed to be a stumbling block for many of them, though they changed their tune after receiving what came to be known as his legendary dressing down lectures for breaking or misplacing equipment. Every time a double-oh would slink from his office, head down to avoid the superior looks from Q branch minions, and Q would chuckle and sip his Earl Grey before running a hand through his hair and returning to work.

The boffin had the job six months before he met James Bond.

***

The days that comprised the Skyfall mission, as Q later called it in his report, consumed every waking and sleeping thought in the man’s mind for months afterward. He had watched on the monitors as 007 ran the battery of tests to evaluate his health (all horribly failed), monitored his conversations with M, Tanner, and Mallory, studied this man who, when he had joined MI6, had recently been declared dead. Q had wanted very much to meet James Bond, and now to suddenly have that chance, it made his palms sweat. But there was no time for second guessing himself, not when he had a job to do.

Despite his “struggling hobo” appearance, James Bond was a very handsome man. He clearly had strength hidden beneath his suit and coat, though his eyes betrayed his exhaustion: bloodshot, strained. In Q’s opinion, the man needed a shower, shave, and a very good fuck, in that order, but he was not going to say as much. The agent didn’t even realize Q’s identity initially. He half expects complaints, but finds himself engaged in witty, even suggestive, repartee with the man. Curious. Enthralling. Up close, Bond’s eyes are piercing and cold, not quite glassy though that’s a near thing. It takes a great amount of willpower for Q to walk away after handing the man his equipment. He feels an odd rush of… _something_. He doesn’t like how it derails his train of thought.

The feeling only grows when Bond returns, clean shaven (only a hint of stubble, much sexier), and far more confident in his skin. Q tries to show off, pleased with his own intelligence, something that still wakes him from a dead sleep in a cold sweat. In less than thirty-six hours, M was dead. Silva too, that rat bastard. But Q saw. He saw when James returned to MI6 the day after M’s funeral. The man looked empty when he thought no one was looking, but whenever he interacted with Q, it was innuendos and banter, easy as you please.

Q couldn’t figure it out, and it troubled him. How was he to know that in the span of a week, he had begun to fall for this blond, broken man?

***

They worked together on many, many missions before Spectre, and despite his exasperation with Bond’s inability to bring equipment home, the agent was Q’s favorite. He looked forward to spending time in the same space as the agent, a chance to admire him with the lovely visual of Bond in a perfect bespoke suit. He often snuck looks when he knew the agent couldn’t see him, much easier to do in his new basement lab. It was somewhere around this time that Q began to dream of Bond.

_-bodies heaving, entwined, pinned-_

_-Bond above him, blue eyes nearly black-_

_-Q arching and crying out in ecstasy-_

_-the scrape of stubble on sensitive skin-_

_-a gravelly baritone purring in his ear-_

He would wake, overheated and usually hard, frustrated and confused. It made it more difficult to see Bond in person without blushing, but Q persevered. He would not allow himself to be separated from his work and therefore from his time with Bond.

And then Bond had to go get in trouble again. Though… he was always in trouble.

***

When he finished dismantling the cybersecurity network C had tried so hard to initiate, to use to destroy MI6 from the inside out, all Q could think was how relieved he was that it was over now. The country safe once more. Then the old headquarters blew up, and three guesses who was most likely behind that. Q kept it to himself that he didn’t like Madeline Swann, but he would never say so. He was just the Quartermaster of MI6; he didn’t have influence over who agents fucked in the field if it wasn’t to get information. But Bond seemed attached, and it hurt. Q hadn’t expected it to hurt.

So when Bond comes down to the lab after Blofeld’s arrest, the only feeling Q has is surprise.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

“I forgot something.”

Typical. “And what’s that?”

The agent smirks at him. “My car.”

Oh. The rush of disappointment should have been a clue. He should have seen it. Reluctantly, he hands the keys over to 007, careful not to touch his hand. “There you are.”

Bond smirks and nods at him before turning to leave. “You know, Moneypenny and I have a bet going.”

“Do you. Fascinating.”

“Mmm. About how much longer you’ll last before professing your undying love for me.” The man turns and bloody winks at Q. “She’s very observant of you, particularly when I’m around. Seems to think we’d be good together, but I wasn’t sure until now.” He held up the keys. “You didn’t give me your usual lecture. The one where I promise to return it in one piece and then don’t.” James chuckles and takes a step towards Q. “Some might say you were pining for me. I’d be a piss poor agent if I couldn’t spot that from a mile off.”

“So what if I am? Makes no difference. You have Miss Swann and I have my cats. We’ll be incredibly happy. I have to get back to work now-”

“Q. I put her on a plane this morning. She’s gone back to her work.”

The Quartermaster’s head snaps up, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I put her on a plane. Do you need your ears checked? I have it on good authority that I’m an excellent doctor.”

Q snorts loudly. “Really.”

“Yes, really. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

The man is advancing, and Q backs up, trapping himself against the nearest wall.

“I don’t _just_ fuck women. I have taken male lovers before.”

“Bond, why are you _here_?”

“To win a bet? Settle a score? Finally get a chance to kiss those lips? Or do you miss the little glances I give them when you’re around? Too busy staring at my arse in these trousers?”

Q flushes, a sure sign of his guilt at how close to home that supposition is. “What am I supposed to make of it? If I somehow fell for a man who can’t love me back who fights attachment with every fiber of his being?”

“Then I would tell you to stop being a fool when said man is quite willing to snog you senseless right here and then steal you away for a full week of paid leave. Consider it a thank you. But nothing happens without your say.” James’s hands are resting on the wall on either side of Q, the man looking at him with amusement and heat. “What do you want, Quartermaster? If you had to choose. What would you pick?”

If it doesn’t work, it’s only his heart. He can pick up the pieces later.

“ _You_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and reviews welcome!


End file.
